The King’s Convenient Bride by Michelle Celmer

A thought suddenly struck Hannah. For the first time since their marriage had been arranged, she and Prince Phillip – No, King Phillip – were alone.

Totally alone.

In the past, whenever they met, there had always been a chaperone present. But right here, right now, there was no one to stop them from…whatever.

Suddenly she felt ultra-aware of his presence. The clean, crisp scent of his aftershave. The weight of his gaze as he studied her. He was just so…there.

And so close.

With little more than a lift of her hand, she could touch him, brush her fingertip across his cheek.

“If you keep chewing your lips that way, there’ll be nothing left for me,” he teased, and something playfully wicked flashed behind his eyes.

The Illegitimate Prince’s Baby by Michelle Celmer

He leaned in, his mouth close to her ear, his breath on her face.

She held her arms to her side to stop herself from doing something monumentally stupid. But she suspected that it was already too late. And just as she decided to give in, the phone started to ring.

“I should get that,” she said, slipping out from under his arm and dashing to the cordless on the table.

She glanced over her shoulder at Ethan, where he leaned casually against the door, watching her. She couldn’t think straight when those smoky eyes were fixed her way.

This was it. She could leave now and put an end to this. For tonight anyway, and possibly forever. Or she could stay. With Ethan. Knowing exactly what that would mean.

This time, it wouldn’t end with just a kiss.

MICHELLE CELMER

Bestselling author Michelle Celmer lives in southeastern Michigan with her husband, their three children, two dogs and two cats. When she’s not writing or busy being a mum, you can find her in the garden or curled up with a romance novel. And if you twist her arm really hard you can usually persuade her into a day of power shopping.

Michelle loves to hear from readers. Visit her website at: www.michellecelmer.com, or write to her at PO Box 300, Clawson, MI 48017, USA.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the first book in my ROYAL SEDUCTIONS series. This is my first series for Desire and I couldn’t be more excited, nor could I have picked a more interesting family to write about than the Royals of Morgan Isle, a small island country located in the Irish Sea between England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales.

Phillip is everything you would expect from a king. Gorgeous, wealthy and powerful. And let’s not forget stubborn. This arranged marriage is nothing to him but that. An arrangement. But Hannah Renault, his bride-to-be, wants the real thing, and she’ll stop at nothing to chip away the ice covering his frozen heart.

I hope you enjoy their story!

Best,

Michelle

The King’s Convenient Bride

MICHELLE CELMER

The Illegitimate Prince’s Baby

MICHELLE CELMER

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my mum, Karen,

who is hands down my most devoted fan.

THE KING’S CONVENIENT BRIDE

by

Michelle Celmer

One

Though she had been preparing for this day for eight years, as the limo pulled up to the palace steps and Hannah Renault caught her first glimpse of the prince—make that the king—waiting to welcome her, she trembled in her ecru Gucci pumps.

Wearing his royal dress uniform, King Phillip Lindall Augustus Mead stood at the top of the stairs flanked by what had to be the entire palace staff. A collection of medals and commendations on his jacket glittered in the sun and a gilded sword hung at his hip.

Outside the gates, residents of Morgan Isle crowded to get their first glimpse of their soon-to-be queen.

Aka: Her.

The limo stopped at the base of a gold-rimmed red carpet. The door swung open and a gloved hand appeared to help her out.

She smoothed the skirt of her dark blue linen suit. This is it, she told herself. This is the day you’ve been dreaming of. The time to make a good impression on your husband-to-be and, from the looks of it, half the country. So, whatever you do, as you’re climbing those stairs, don’t trip.

With all the grace and dignity a woman could manage while climbing out of a vehicle, her heart fluttering madly in her chest, Hannah stepped into the balmy sunshine. Beyond the gates a cheer broke out among the onlookers.

Warring with the sudden, intense urge to turn around and dive back into the limo, she took a deep breath, straightened her spine and lifted her chin high. As per the instructions she received from the royal social secretary, she stood her ground and waited for the king’s formal greeting. She held her breath as he descended the steps and a deafening hush fell over the crowd, as though they were holding their breath with her. Don’t be nervous, she told herself, but nervous didn’t even come close to what she was actually feeling. She bordered more along the lines of terrified.

Just breathe, Hannah. In and out. You can do this.

It had been two long years since she had seen her fiancé face-to-face, and he was more handsome, more heart-stoppingly beautiful than she remembered.

As instructed, the instant the king’s foot hit the bottom step, Hannah stepped forward and dipped into a routinely practiced curtsy. With a bow of her head, and in a wobbly voice, she said, “Your Highness.”

“My lady,” he returned in a deep, rich voice, with proper British inflection, then offered his hand. A small burst of energy arced between their fingers an instant before they actually touched. When she met his eyes, something warm and inviting swam in their smoky-gray depths. Taking her hand gently in his own, he bent at the waist and brushed his lips across her skin. “Welcome home.”

Her stomach bottomed out and her legs went weak while thunderous applause rattled her eardrums.

You must appear regal and confident, but never cold, she had been told a million times from her royal-appointed etiquette coach.

But under the circumstances, it was all she could do to stay upright and conscious.

This was really happening. In two weeks she would marry this handsome, powerful man. In two weeks, she would be a queen.

Shaking with excitement and fear, from her toes all the way to the ends of her hair, she allowed him to lead her up the steps, chanting to herself: please don’t trip, please don’t trip.

Picking up on her abject terror, and in a serious break of royal tradition, he slipped his arm around her waist and drew her close to his side. Then he dipped his head and said in a low whisper, so only she could hear, “Relax. The worst is over.”

She was so grateful she nearly dissolved into tears right there on the steps. He felt so solid and sturdy and he radiated self-assurance. If there were only a way she could absorb a bit of that confidence for herself.

They reached the top step, where they would stop and she would formally greet the staff and country. But in another breech of ceremony, the king swept past the receiving lines and led her directly to the enormous, gilded double doors that, seemingly on their own, swung open to welcome her inside.

He led her through the cavernous foyer. Two royal attendants were close behind them, the soles of their shoes clicking against the polished marble floor. He stopped in front of a pair of ceiling-high, carved mahogany doors.

“Give us a minute,” he told the two attendants, which Hannah took to mean they were not to be disturbed. Then he ushered her inside and closed the door behind them.

She found herself surrounded on three sides by bookshelves that climbed high to kiss the outer rim of an ornately painted cathedral ceiling. She’d never seen so many books in one room. Not even in the university library back home. Furniture upholstered in a rich, deep red leather formed a sitting area in the center of the room. He led her to a chair and ordered, “Sit.”

Her legs were so shaky it was that or fall over, so she sat, and took what was probably her first full breath since the limo pulled up to the wrought iron gates.

“Shall I get the smelling salts?” he asked.

For an instant, she thought he might be angry, and she couldn’t really blame him, considering how seriously she had blown it, but, when she looked up, he wore the shadow of an amused grin.

She shook her head. “I think I’m okay now.”

He crossed the room to the wet bar, chose a decanter and poured a splash of amber liquid into a glass. She thought it was for him, but then he carried it over and pressed it into her hand. “Sip. Slowly.”

She sipped and it burned a path of liquid fire down her throat all the way to her belly, temporarily stealing the air from her lungs. When she could breath again, she wheezed, “I’m sorry.”

He crouched down beside her chair, leaning on the arm. “For what?”

“I really blew it out there.”

“How’s that?”

“I was supposed to greet the staff.”

He shrugged. “So, you’ll greet them later.”

“And we were supposed to turn and wave to the people outside the gates.”

Again with the shrug. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

She worried her lower lip with her teeth. “But I don’t want people to think I’m a snob.”

“Are you?”

His question threw her. “Well…no. Of course not. But—”

“Then don’t worry about it.”

“Isn’t it kind of important that the people of the country like me?”

“They will,” he assured her, as if he had no doubt.

“What about the press?” Reporters in the States were sometimes brutal, but she’d been warned the media in Europe could be downright vicious.

Phillip didn’t look the least bit concerned. “See this?” he asked, indicating his left jacket pocket. “This is where I keep the press. In other words, you have nothing to worry about.”

Oh, well, that was good to know. It seemed as though he had all his bases covered. And why wouldn’t he? He was the richest, most powerful man in the country.

She took another sip of her drink, felt the knots in her belly begin to unravel. “My coach insisted I was prepared for this. You can bet she’s going to hear from me.”

“You did fine. You will grow accustomed to it.”

She sure hoped so.

A moment of awkward silence followed and she racked her brain for something to say. Since turning sixteen, everything she had done, all that she had learned, had been in preparation for this day. Now that she was finally here, she was at a total loss.

It wasn’t helping that, technically, she was supposed to be marrying a prince. She should have had an indeterminate number of years as a princess, time to adjust to the lifestyle. But the queen’s death had unexpectedly moved plans forward.

Phillip, now as king, needed a queen to stand by his side. Even more important, he needed an heir. So, instead of a courtship, in which they would have six months to get to know one another before they took the plunge, they had two very short weeks before they said their I do’s.

Two weeks.

She downed the contents of her glass, the sting of the alcohol sucking the air from her lungs and making her eyes well up.

His expression somewhere between amusement and curiosity, he took the glass from her and set it on a nearby table. “Feeling better?”

She nodded, but it was pretty obvious from the crooked, wry smile he wore that he didn’t believe her. And it dawned on her, as she glanced around the quiet, empty room, that for the first time since this marriage had been arranged, she and Phillip were alone.

Totally alone.

In the past, to keep things proper and by the book, on the rare occasions they visited each other, there had always been a chaperone present. Though Hannah’s experience with the queen had been limited to a few obligatory and brief meetings, she’d heard the rumors. She’d heard that the queen was cold, heartless and ruthlessly demanding.

It was her way or the highway.

But the queen was gone now, and right here, in this empty room, there was no one to stop them from…whatever.

Suddenly she felt ultra aware of his presence. The clean, crisp scent of his aftershave. The weight of his gaze as he studied her. He was just so…there.

And so close.

It would take little more than a fraction of movement and she could touch his sleeve. With a lift of her hand she could brush her fingertip across his smooth cheek. And the idea of touching him made her legs feel all wobbly again.

“If you keep chewing your lip that way, there’ll be nothing left for me,” he teased, and something playfully wicked flashed behind his eyes.

Oh, boy.

In all of the years she’d studied in preparation for this marriage, she had learned about things like etiquette and social graces, bloodlines and royal custom, but no one ever taught her about this kind of stuff. Sure, it had been drilled in her head that she would be expected to produce at least one heir, preferably more, but all advice stopped outside the bedroom door.

And to say she was a novice was a gross understatement.

Though her high school girlfriends and college sorority sisters often questioned her sanity, she had made the decision a long time ago, even before the arranged marriage, that she would save herself for her husband on their wedding night.

She and Phillip had never kissed. Never so much as held hands. Not that she hadn’t wanted to. But it wouldn’t have been proper. Right now, here in this room, there wasn’t a single thing to stop them.

The idea made her both excited and terrified at the same time. The truth of the matter was, she barely knew him, and that had never been more evident to her than at this very moment.

He leaned forward a fraction and she just about jumped out of her skin. With an amused grin, he asked, “Do I make you nervous, Hannah?”

She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to gnaw her lip. “You’re a king. It is a tad intimidating.”

“I’m just a man.”

Yeah, kind of like The Beatles were just a rock-and-roll band or the Mona Lisa is just a painting.

“I’ve been anticipating this day for a really long time,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as wobbly to his ears as it did to her own.

“Well then, I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.” His eyes searched her face and she wondered what he was looking for. What did he see when he looked at her? Did he know deep in his heart, just as she did, that they were perfectly suited? Was he as excited about the future as she was?

Though her parents insisted she wait until she was eighteen before making the decision to marry Phillip, from the day she met him, she knew that she would someday be his wife. Had he felt it, too?

With all of her dedication and careful planning, how could their life together not be storybook perfect?

“You are beautiful.” He lifted one hand to her face, brushed the backs of his fingers across the curve of her jaw. Her skin warmed and tingled and a funny tickle rippled through her belly. “Does it strike you odd that we’ll be married in two weeks, and yet I’ve never even kissed you?”

“It would have been difficult with the chaperone watching our every move. Of course, that was the point of the chaperone, I guess.”

He leaned in the tiniest bit and her heart went berserk. “There’s no chaperone here.”

“Well,” she said, with a confidence she’d dredged up from God only knew where. “I guess now is your big chance.”

A grin curled his mouth. He slipped his fingers across her cheek, cupped her face with one large but gentle hand, and goose bumps broke out across her skin. “I guess it is.”

Two

Maybe it wasn’t proper, but as he leaned in she felt herself tipping forward to meet him halfway. Since she was sixteen years old, she had imagined kissing him, so sue her if she was more than a little enthusiastic.

Her eyes slipped closed and she felt the whisper of his breath, then his lips brushed hers…

Across the room the doors flew open and Hannah was so startled, she shot to her feet.

Phillip sighed and sat back on his heels. Leave it to his sister, Sophie, to kill a moment.

Sophie merely smiled.

He rose to his feet to stand beside his fiancée. She was red-faced with embarrassment, or maybe arousal. Or perhaps a bit of both. “Hannah, you remember my sister, Princess Sophie?”

“Of course,” Hannah said, executing a flawless curtsy. “It’s so nice to see you again, Your Highness.”

“As I’m sure my brother will tell you, I don’t care much for titles.” She offered Hannah her hand for a firm, very unroyal shake. “From now on, it’s just plain old Sophie, okay?”

Hannah nodded, her lip clamped between her teeth. A habit he found rather charming. If it weren’t for his sister and her most inconvenient timing, he might be the one chewing that plump, tender flesh.

“I wanted to let you know that the receiving line has been moved to the foyer,” Sophie told him. And added with a wry grin, “If you’re ready, of course.”

He turned to his bride-to-be. “Hannah?”

“Is there a powder room I could use first? I have the feeling I gnawed off the last of my lipstick.”

“Of course.” He gestured to the door. “Right through there.”

“I’ll try to hurry.”

“Take all the time you need.”

He watched her cross the room, noting that in spite of her apprehension, she carried herself with the utmost grace and dignity. It was hard to believe it had been two years since their last meeting. And the fault was entirely his own. Since his father’s death he had been too busy to give his impending marriage much attention. There wasn’t even supposed to be a marriage for at least another year. Not that he would be any less opposed to the idea then, as he was now.

If it were up to him, he would never tie the knot. The idea of being chained to a single woman for the rest of his life sounded so…claustrophobic. But he had a duty to his country. One that he did not take lightly.

And unlike his father, from whom Phillip had inherited his restless nature, he intended to be faithful to his wife.

“You certainly don’t waste any time,” his sister said. “Although, in the future, you might want to lock the door.”

He shot her a warning look.

“It’s a good thing the powder room has only one exit,” she said. “Or I fear your betrothed might just make a run for it.”

He wouldn’t even justify that with a response. “Surely you have something better to do.”

Sophie grinned. There was nothing she loved more than ruffling his feathers. From the time she was old enough to form words, she had been the consummate, bratty younger sister.

“Your intended is quite lovely,” she said.

“Yes, quite,” he agreed. Everything a king could want or expect in a wife.

Though at first the idea of an arranged marriage had been archaic even to him, at the insistence of his mother—who had rejected the concept of the word no, unless, of course, she was the one speaking it—he had flown to the States to meet the young woman.

It had been clear to him immediately that at the age of sixteen Hannah already possessed great potential. Despite the eight-year age difference, he found her undeniably attractive. And he could see that the feeling was mutual. And even better, were he to acquiesce, it would keep his parents off his back. At his own request, future meetings were arranged, and plans for a courtship were set in motion.

By eighteen she had blossomed into a woman of exceptional beauty and poise, and their feelings had matured from ones of sexual curiosity to intense physical attraction.

She was everything a king could want in a mate, and right now her innocence, her eagerness to please, appealed to him. Sadly, he was easily bored and quite sure that the novelty would soon wear off.

“Do you think she has the slightest clue what she’s getting herself into?” Sophie asked.

“The slightest.” There was only so much she could learn from a book or a tutor. The rest would come through experience.

“While I have you here, I was hoping to have a word with you.”

He felt an argument coming on. “If this is about what I think it’s about—”

“He’s our brother. You could at least hear him out.”

“Half brother,” he said firmly. A product of their father’s infidelity. “I owe him nothing.”

“What he is proposing would ensure the stability of our empire for generations.”

“And his own, no doubt.”

She looked at him as though he were loony. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“If it’s the crown that concerns you, he wants no part of it.”

Not unlike Sophie, he thought, who had spent the better part of her twenty-five years expressing her dislike of the monarchy’s rules. But in the case of their half brother, Ethan Rafferty, their father’s blood ran through his veins. As a result, he did have a claim to the crown. If something were to happen to Phillip, he would be next in line.

For Phillip, that was unacceptable.

“I won’t discuss this,” Phillip told her. “Period.”

Her cheeks flushed with frustration. “Bloody hell, you’re stubborn!”

She was one to talk. “That distinction, dear Sophie, is not limited to me.”

The door to the powder room opened, and Hannah emerged. Grateful for the interruption, he crossed the room to meet her. “Feeling better?”

Hannah nodded. “I think I’m ready to do this. And I’m sorry again for getting so freaked out.”

“Were you?” Sophie asked from behind him. “I’m quite sure no one noticed.”

Hannah cracked an appreciative smile. The first one he had seen since she arrived.

He offered his arm to her. “Shall I escort you?”

She looked from his arm to the door, then took a deep breath. “I appreciate the offer, but I think that after what happened outside, it’s important that I stand on my own two feet.”

“As you wish.” He opened the door for her and watched, feeling an unexpected surge of pride as she swept out into the foyer.

Sophie stepped up beside him and, in a quiet voice, said, “Impressive.”

“Indeed.”

“You think she’s ready for this?”

He nodded, and said with genuine honesty, “I do.”

“I agree,” she said. “The real question, Your Highness, is are you ready for her?”

This day turned out to be, by far, the most demanding, frightening and exciting in Hannah’s life. After the receiving line, which in itself took the better part of an hour, they attended a luncheon in her honor. Following a meal she had been too self-conscious to do more than pick at, she and the king mingled with dozens of state officials and their spouses. So many, in fact, that remembering all of their names would take nothing short of a miracle.

After lunch there was a photo shoot in the garden, followed by a short press conference in which she and the king were bombarded by the reporters with questions of her background and education, how she felt about becoming queen, their upcoming nuptials and the plans for the gala to celebrate the country’s 500th anniversary.

To stand beside the king, to feel the air of confidence and supremacy all but spilling from his pores, was as fascinating as it was intimidating. He was the most powerful man in the country and he embraced the designation. And for what wasn’t the first time that day, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d gotten in way over her head. Years of training and preparation and still she felt overwhelmed. She knew though, had her father been there, he would have been so proud of her, and that was all that mattered.

She endured another exhausting evening meal shared with a new blur of names and faces she barely had a hope of remembering, although there was one woman she recognized from earlier in the day. And only because of the way she watched Hannah so intently. She was dark and very beautiful, close to Hannah’s age, if not a year or two older. She had the kind of voluptuous figure that turned men’s heads. Hannah considered going to talk to her, but that would require leaving Phillip’s side, and she wasn’t ready to do that yet. But every time Hannah looked her way, the woman was watching. Shamelessly and blatantly. But just as Hannah began to feel uncomfortable, the woman vanished. She craned her neck, checking every corner of the room, but didn’t see her.

That was odd. And she couldn’t shake the feeling she had imagined her.

After another hour of small talk and chatter, the king finally bid the guests good-night and offered to escort Hannah to her suite.

She was so exhausted, the thought of collapsing into bed made her want to weep with relief.

Offering his arm, Phillip led her to the private residence at the north end of the palace. Though it may have been used only by the family and limited staff, it was no less luxurious than the common areas. More modern, and not nearly so formal, but dripping in extravagance and style. Her parents’ estate in Seattle was by no means small, but wealth of this magnitude was foreign to her.

It would take some getting used to.

The instant they were inside with the door closed, he unfastened the button at the collar of his jacket and, just like that, transformed back into the less intimidating version of himself—the compassionate man who had whisked her up the palace steps and inside to the sanctuary of the library.

“You did well today,” he told her.

“To be honest, it’s all a bit of a blur.” And all she could comprehend at the present moment was the pain in her feet. The desperate need to kick out of the pumps the salesgirl had assured her would spare her any discomfort. Like walking on a cloud, my foot.

“Would it be possible to get a photo and bio of the government officials?” she asked.

He regarded her curiously. “What for?”

“So I can learn their names. I met so many people tonight, I have no hope of remembering them all and I don’t want to appear rude. That should include information of their spouses and families as well. I’m assuming you can do that.”

The king looked surprised and impressed. “Of course. You’ll have it first thing tomorrow.”

They stopped outside what she assumed was her suite. “I have to apologize for the temporary accommodations,” he said. “This suite is somewhat small.”

She didn’t care about the size. So long as it had a tub to soak in and a bed to melt into, he wasn’t going to hear her complaining. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

He opened the door. “You’ll stay here while the permanent suite is being renovated. In fact, I believe you have an appointment with the decorator tomorrow afternoon.”

She didn’t want to think any further ahead than a hot bubble bath, but as he led her inside, she found herself facing three more new faces. Two were dressed in formal black-and-white maid’s uniforms and the other in a modest, navy-blue pinstripe business suit.

“Hannah, I’d like to introduce you to your staff. Miss Cross and Miss Swan, your personal maids, and your personal assistant, Miss Pryce.”

All three curtsied and said in unison, “My lady.”

She smiled and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Miss Pryce stepped forward, a leather-bound folder tucked under one arm. “I have your schedule, my lady, and your agenda for tomorrow.”

“My fiancée is quite exhausted,” Phillip said. “I think this can wait until morning.”

She nodded and retreated a step. “My apologies, sir.”

With little more than a flick of his wrist and tilt of his head, he dismissed her staff. “Your suite includes a sitting room, sleeping chamber and office.”

“And a bathroom, I hope.”

He smiled. “Of course. With all the amenities you could possibly need. In your office you’ll see that you’ve been supplied with all the computer equipment you asked for.”

“Thanks.” She turned in a circle, taking in the decor. The room was decorated in neutral shades of brown and beige and the furniture looked comfortable and inviting. It was more than large enough to suit her. Larger even than her residence on her parents’ estate. She wasn’t sure why they would go through the trouble of decorating a suite especially for her since, after the wedding, she would be sharing a suite with her husband.

Or maybe they would be moving into the new suite together. In which case it was nice of him to let her do the decorating. To extend that sort of trust to a woman he barely knew. “It’s lovely, and more than adequate.”

“Excellent.” He removed his jacket and tossed it over the arm of a chair. Underneath he wore a plain, white long-sleeved knit shirt, similar to a mock turtleneck. It clung to the contours of his chest and arms, accentuating what appeared to be toned, defined muscle underneath. Even without the bulk of his jacket, the expansive width of his shoulders was impressive to say the least.

She wondered how it would feel to put her hands on him. How would his arms feel around her?

The thought of him touching her, and their almost-kiss in the library, had her blushing from her toes to the ends of her hair.

Once again they were alone together. Just the two of them, but this time in her suite. Mere steps away from the bedroom. And Hannah seriously doubted that Princess Sophie, who she had seen sneaking off with one of the guests shortly after dinner, would be around to interrupt them this time.

Is that why he’d sent the staff away? Did he have…plans for them?

He walked across the room to a cabinet that held a dozen or so decanters of alcohol, chose one and poured them each a drink. He turned to her, looking surprised to see that she was still rooted firmly to the same spot.

“It’s been a long day,” he said, walking toward her. “Sit down. Relax.”

Her feet were throbbing, but the idea of taking off her shoes while he was in the room made her feel so…vulnerable. “You’re staying?”

“Would you prefer I leave?”

“No, of course not. I just… Is this okay?”

He set both drinks on the table beside the couch. “Is what okay?”

“You being in my suite. You know…before the wedding.”

He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“It’s not against the rules?”

“Is there a reason it should be?”

Why did she get the feeling he was making this up as he went along? “Next you’ll be telling me it’s all right for you to tuck me into bed.”

His mouth tipped up in a feral smile. “If that’s what you wish.”

He was teasing her again, and she was a little stunned to realize that she was teasing him right back. It was…empowering. And a little scary.

“As you pointed out earlier, I’m a king. I make the rules.” He gestured to the couch. “Join me?”

Her feet were killing her, and God knows it would feel absolutely wonderful to sit down. Maybe just for a little while.

She took a step forward, then hesitated.

“Don’t worry. I don’t bite.” A grin split his face. “Unless, of course, you would like me to.”

She bit her lip.

“You can trust me,” he assured her.

Maybe that wasn’t the problem. Maybe it wasn’t Phillip’s behavior that she questioned.

Maybe it was herself she didn’t trust.

Three

Phillip sighed.

He had things to do tonight. A long-awaited task to accomplish, but she wasn’t making this easy. Of course, he probably wasn’t helping matters. But he did so very much enjoy teasing her. “I promise to be on my best behavior.”

She surprised him again by folding her arms across her chest and saying, “With no frame of reference, how can I begin to know what your best behavior is?”

He liked Hannah, and was saddened by the thought that it wouldn’t last. That someday soon he would grow bored with her. But he might as well enjoy it while it lasted. “How about I promise to keep my hands to myself? All right?”

She considered that, and he wasn’t sure if she looked relieved or disappointed. Finally, she nodded. “All right.”

She walked to the couch and sat primly on the edge of the cushion—knees pressed firmly together and tipped to one side—smoothing the creases from her skirt and jacket. He sat beside her, far enough away that it would be considered proper by anyone’s standards.

“Feel free to remove the torture devices from your feet,” he said, and at her look of confusion, added, “Your shoes. They look uncomfortable.”

She glanced down, a pained look on her face, then blatantly lied to him by saying, “They feel fine.”

Why did she have to be so…difficult? He wasn’t exactly looking forward to what he had to do, but it would go much more smoothly if she would just relax.

He handed her a drink, watched as she took a sip, then he took a healthy swallow of his own. Hopefully the alcohol would loosen her up a bit. Make this less painful for both of them. Not that he thought she would voice an objection once he got started.

He had considered the garden as a more suitable location. More romantic, he supposed, but more than likely someone would have seen. In a life so very public, he felt he deserved a few private moments. Especially for an act as intimate as the one he was about to perform.

Maybe it was like taking off a bandage. The faster he did it, the less it would sting.

He downed the last of his brandy then took Hannah’s barely touched glass from her and set them both on the table.

Well, here goes.

With Hannah watching him curiously, he lowered himself to the floor beside the couch on one knee and produced the small velvet box from his pants pocket.

Hannah’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open in surprise before she caught herself and snapped it shut again.

He flipped the box open to reveal the fourteen-carat diamond ring that had been passed down through his family for the past twelve generations. Hannah gasped softly.

Breaking his promise not to touch her, he took her hand in his. “Hannah Renault, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

In a soft, breathy voice, she said, “Of course I will.”

He lifted the ring from the satin pillow that was inside the velvet box and slipped it on her ring finger, feeling the sickening sensation of his freedom slithering from his grasp.

He let go of her hand and she stared in wonder at the enormous rock on her finger. When she looked back up at him, a pool of tears welled in her eyes.

Bloody hell, did she have to go and do that? As if this wasn’t awkward enough. But for her sake, he did his best to hide his discomfort. Besides, what woman wouldn’t get a little misty-eyed to have such a fine piece of jewelry in her possession?

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” she said wistfully.

Or so big, he imagined. If there was one constant with women, it was a love of things that sparkled. “It’s been in my family for generations.”

“It’s amazing.”

The moisture building in her eyes hovered precariously at the edge of lids, threatening to spill over at any second. A good reason for him to—as the Americans liked to say—get the hell out of Dodge.

He shifted his weight, preparing to pull himself to his feet, but before he got the chance, she vaulted off the couch, threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.

In all of her preparations for this marriage, not even in the instructions that had been sent to her, breaking down the events of her first day in the palace, had one word been mentioned about a formal proposal. Which, in her mind, could mean only one thing.

He had gotten down on one knee before her not out of duty, but simply because he wanted to.

It was the sweetest, most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her. Like her fairy-tale dream coming true. And it was the only logical way to explain how, one minute she was sitting across from him, and the next she was pressed up against him, her arms linked tightly around his neck.

She felt his arms circle her, his large palms settle on and cover the entire width of her hips. He smelled masculine and inviting. And she liked the way their bodies fit together just right. The warm, solid feel of him. He made her feel…safe.

But was she really? His hands were mere inches from parts of her that had never been touched by a man. Parts that shouldn’t be touched for at least another two weeks. Then his grip on her tightened almost imperceptibly.

A warm shiver of awareness coursed through her from her head all the way to her toes and she was suddenly hyperconscious of not only his body, but of her own. The slight quickening of her breath. The tingle in her breasts where they crushed the solid wall of muscle in his chest. She could even feel the heat of his skin seeping through the layers of their clothing.

A hot curl of desire started in her belly and spiraled outward in a thrilling rush. Into her arms and legs, her fingers and toes, and some very interesting and wicked places in between.

Every scent and sound and sensation seemed to jumble together, making her feel dizzy and confused. There was an incredible energy building between them. She could feel his breath deepen, his pulse quicken to keep time with her own frantically beating heart.

It was frightening and exciting and arousing all at the same time. And though she knew it was wrong, it felt too good to stop.

Phillip moved his head and Hannah felt the scrape of his beard stubble against her cheek. The warm rush of his breath on her ear. Pull away, her conscience warned. You do not want to do this.

Oh yes, I do, answered back the part of her that had been looking forward to this for the past eight years.

His lips were so close. So near she could almost taste them. He moved his head, nuzzled her cheek lightly, and everything inside her melted to hot liquid. If she hadn’t already been sitting, her legs surely would have buckled out from under her.

Anticipation buzzed between them like an electric, live wire. He turned just a little and she felt his lips…on her cheek, at the corner of her mouth….

His mouth brushed hers and though she was expecting it, longing for it even, it still surprised her. And scared her half to death. It felt too wonderful, and she had come too far, saved herself for too long, to turn back now.

Gathering up the absolute last shred of restraint left in her, she turned and rested her head on his shoulder. “You promised me that you would keep your hands to yourself.”

His voice sounded rough when he spoke. “That’s not exactly fair, considering you started it.”

She couldn’t argue with that. She had literally thrown herself at him. The only person to blame here was herself. “You’re right. But we have to stop.”

“No, we don’t.” His hands slid from her hips to the indent of her waist. He nuzzled the tender spot just below her ear and she shivered. “You can’t tell me that you don’t want this as much as I do.”

Of course she did, maybe even more, but that wasn’t the point. She dropped her arms from around his neck and flattened her palms on his chest. “As you get to know me, you’ll find I have this annoying habit of doing things by the book. And we’re not married yet.”

“No one will know.”

“I’ll know.”

He sighed, a long, tired sound tinged with frustration. Then lifted her up, as though she weighed nothing, and deposited her back on the couch.

Since she didn’t trust herself and she clearly couldn’t rely on him to apply the brakes, from now on there would be no more temptation. That meant no kissing or touching of any kind until after the wedding. “We’ve waited this long. Two more weeks aren’t going to kill us.”

He pulled himself to his feet. “Speak for yourself.”

She diverted her gaze, finding that it both embarrassed her and gave her a depraved thrill to know that touching her had aroused him. “Are you angry with me?”

The hard lines of his face softened. “Of course not. If more people honored their values the way you do, the world would be a much better place.”

Of all the things he could have possibly said to her, that had to have been the sweetest. And he said it so honestly, as though he really meant it. Maybe he wasn’t so tough as he liked people to think.

“I should go,” he said. “You’ve had a long day.”

“I am exhausted,” she admitted. With the time change and the long trip, she had been up for more than twenty-four hours straight.

“There’s a directory by the phone if you should need anything.” He grabbed his jacket from the chair and walked to the door.

She followed, several steps behind. “Thank you.”

He stopped, hand on the doorknob, and turned to her. “For what?”

She shrugged, suddenly feeling embarrassed. She was twenty-four years old and still so terribly naive about certain things. But anxious to learn. “I don’t know. Everything, I guess.”

“You’re welcome.” He pulled the door open, then hesitated. “By the way, where do you keep your lipstick?”

“Lipstick?”

“You carried no handbag, yet you’ve freshened your lipstick numerous times throughout the course of the day. I was just wondering where you were hiding it.”

It was funny that he had even noticed. Although, she had the sneaking suspicion there wasn’t much that the king missed.

She smiled. “A proper lady, Your Highness, never tells.”

“I had a feeling you would say that.” With a shake of his head, he stepped into the hall, then turned back one last time. “I should warn you, my lady, that I am used to getting what I want when I want it. Though we may not officially consummate this relationship until after the wedding.” His mouth curled into a hungry, feral smile. “I can’t promise that in the meantime there won’t be a bit of fooling around.”

At first she thought he was only teasing her again, but she could see, by the look in his eyes, that he was dead serious.

She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. What could she possibly say? It occurred to her, not for the first time that day, that she was way out of her league.

He flashed her the smile of a man who knew he had just hit his mark. “Good night, Hannah. Sleep well.”

The door snapped shut quietly behind him, and she didn’t doubt for an instant that he would make good on his threat.

And damned if she barely slept a wink all night.

Four

Hannah was awake, showered and dressed when Miss Pryce knocked on the door to her suite the next morning at 9:00 a.m. on the dot. Beating down a monster case of jet lag, Hannah opened the door and invited her in.

“Good morning, my lady.” She curtsied, quite an impressive feat considering her arms were stacked with file folders and binders. “I have the information you requested.”

“My gosh, someone must have been up all night compiling this.” She shuddered to think of all the reading she had ahead of her. She would have to call down for a second pot of coffee. But with any luck, the mystery woman from yesterday would be among the pages and Hannah might learn her identity. And maybe have some clue as to why she’d watched Hannah so intently.

“Would you like it in your office?” Miss Pryce asked.

She hated being cooped up in an office. “Why don’t you set it down on the table by the sofa.”

She did as requested then stood stiffly, clutching the leather binder she’d had with her last night. The dreaded schedule.

“Would you care for a cup of coffee, Miss Pryce?”

“No, thank you.”

“I could call down for tea.”

She didn’t even crack a smile. “I’m fine, thank you.”

How about a valium, or shot of whiskey? Hannah thought. She wondered if everyone around here was always this formal. If so, it was going to take some serious getting used to. For them, that is. Hannah’s staff at home had always been more like an extension of the family than actual employees.

Being royalty didn’t mean she had to be a cold fish.

“Do you have a first name, Miss Pryce?”

She looked confused. “Of course.”

“What is it?”

She hesitated for an instant, as though she wasn’t quite sure why Hannah would even ask. “Elizabeth.”

“May I address you by your first name?”

Miss Pryce looked utterly confused.

Hannah sighed. Something this simple shouldn’t be so difficult. “Miss Pryce, I’m not sure how things are done here in the palace, but as my personal secretary, I can only assume we’ll be spending quite some time together.”

Miss Pryce nodded.

“In that case, it would be nice if I could address you by your first name.”

“Of course, my lady. I would be honored.”

This my lady stuff was going to get old fast. “And I don’t suppose there would be any chance you could call me Hannah?”

Miss Pryce lowered her eyes and shook her head. “That wouldn’t be proper. I would lose my job.”

She would push the issue, but Hannah could see that she was making her uncomfortable. After she and Phillip were married, at least her title would change to a less pretentious, Ma’am.

“Before we get started, I was hoping to have a word with my fiancé.” Since he left her suite last night, she had been anticipating seeing him again. She had a million questions to ask him. Things about him she was dying to know.

“He’s not here.”

“Oh. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Friday, I think.”

“Friday?” Five days?

“If the weather holds,” she added.

“Weather?”

“He and his cousin, Sir Charles, don’t care to hunt in the rain.”

Hunt? He went hunting?

She willed herself to remain calm, to ignore the deep spear of disappointment that lodged in her heart. She’d been here less than twenty-four hours and he’d left to go on a hunting trip? That would leave them barely a week to get to know one another before the wedding. Didn’t he care about her?

Calm down, Hannah. Of course he did. His actions yesterday proved his affection for her. There had to be a logical reason. A hunting trip to disguise business, maybe? Some secret trip no one could know the truth about?

There was no way he would just leave her.

Her distress must have shown, because Miss Pryce looked suddenly alarmed. “If it’s an emergency—”

“No. No emergency.” She forced a smile. The last thing she wanted was for her assistant to know how deeply her feelings had been hurt. “It can wait until he returns.” Hannah gestured to the sofa. “Shall we get started?”

Hannah sat, and Elizabeth lowered herself stiffly beside her. Apparently it was going to take time for her to relax in Hannah’s presence. Baby steps.

“So, what’s on the schedule for today?”

“You meet with the decorator at eleven o’clock, followed by a luncheon at one with the wives of the heads of state.”

“That sounds nice.” She would be sure to skim the files Elizabeth brought so she could pluck at least a few of their names from memory. “What next?”

She went on, but Hannah was only half listening. Her mind was still stuck on Phillip’s abrupt disappearance. Was it possible that he wasn’t hunting at all? That he might be with another woman? And what if it was the mystery woman who wouldn’t stop staring at her?

She dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it formed. Now she was being paranoid and silly.

She wasn’t so naive as to believe that Phillip had saved himself for her. But he’d had the decency to keep that aspect of his life quite discreet. Which told her that he was a man of integrity. And men of integrity were faithful to their significant others.

Finding suspicion with his every action would only make her life miserable.

She was sure that if he had to leave, it was for a good reason. Though Phillip was her fiancé, and would later be her husband, he was a king first and foremost. A servant to his country. That was a fact she would have to accept.

This brief absence would just make them appreciate each other that much more when he returned.

This is just a hiccup, she assured herself. Everything would work out just the way she’d planned.

Phillip stood on the steps leading to the garden, an unseasonably warm breeze ruffling the collar of his shirt, his attention on his future wife.

She sat on a blanket in the shade of a tree whose leaves had just begun to change, legs folded underneath her, hair tumbling in silky chestnut waves down her back. She wore a simple slip dress the exact shade of amber as the turning leaves.

He stepped down onto the grass and walked toward her, finding himself mesmerized by her beauty, intrigued by the intense desire to be near her. To touch her again. In profile, her features looked finely boned and elegant. Regal and confident, with a hint of softness that he found undeniably appealing.

Fine breeding stock, his mother had assured him when the pairing had been suggested and he had yet to meet Hannah, or even see a photo of her. He recalled thinking at the time that his mother could have been describing a head of cattle, not a future member of the family.

Beside her on the blanket sat a pile of binders, and one lay open across her lap. She was so engrossed in whatever it was she was reading, she didn’t hear him approach.

“Good afternoon.”

She let out a squeak of surprise and the folder tumbled from her lap onto the ground. When she looked up and saw it was him standing there, she scrambled to her feet, which he noticed were bare.

“I’m sorry,” she said and executed a slightly wobbly curtsy. “You startled me.”

As she straightened, her hair slipped across her shoulders, thick and shiny, resting in loose spirals atop the swell of her breasts. It all but begged to be touched and his fingers itched to tangle in the silky ribbons. From that day forward he would insist that she never wear it up again.

“If I startled you, perhaps I should be the one apologizing,” he said.

She clasped her hands in front of her, her lip clamped between her teeth, but behind it he could see the shadow of a smile. “You’re back sooner than I expected.”

Despite that, he would have anticipated her to be angry with him. Seeing as how he had left so abruptly. Instead, she seemed genuinely happy to see him.

It had been selfish and insensitive of him to leave her alone, but a lesson she needed to learn. It was best she understand that he had no intention of changing his habits simply because he had a wife. This was an arrangement, a business deal of sorts. The sooner she realized and accepted that, the better off they would both be.

Which did little to explain why, as she’d pointed out, he was home three days early.

“I had to cut my trip short,” he told her.

“Bad weather?” she asked. And, to his look of confusion, added, “Miss Pryce said you don’t like to hunt in bad weather.”

The weather on the opposite end of the island where the hunting cabin was located had been much like it was here. Idyllic. Clear skies and temperatures ten degrees above the usual for late September. And though the company had been equally adequate—he looked forward to trips with his cousin, when he could relax and just be Phillip—this time he’d felt restless and bored.

“Stop acting like an ass and go home to your fiancée,” Charles had urged after having his head all but snapped off for the umpteenth time in two days.

Indignant at first, Phillip was now glad that he’d listened. Best he enjoy the novelty of this relationship while it lasted.

And just for fun, he planned to test the values to which she clung so firmly.

“If you prefer,” he said, “I could go back.”

“N-no, of course not, I just…” She noticed his wry grin, and flashed a somewhat shy smile of her own. “You’re teasing me.”

He nodded.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

Oddly enough, so was he.

He gestured to the work she’d abandoned on the blanket. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Not at all. I had some spare time and thought I would catch up on my reading. And take advantage of the mild weather.”

“They’re keeping you busy?”

“Swamped. It seems as though I’ve had more meetings in the past three days than in the last two years. And I’ve met so many new people, their faces and names all blur together. Every time I get a free minute or two, I try to study the profiles.”

“I was thinking, since it is such a beautiful day, that you might like to take a walk around the grounds with me.”

“I would love to, but…” She glanced from him, to the palace, then to the delicate gold watch on her left wrist.

“Is there a problem?”

“I have a meeting with the decorator in fifteen minutes, then the wedding coordinator after that.”

“Not anymore.”

She blinked with confusion. “Pardon?”

“I told Miss Pryce to clear your schedule for the rest of the afternoon.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “You’re free for the remainder of the day.”

“Is that okay?” she asked. But before he could answer, she held up a hand and said, “I know, you’re the king. You make the rules.”

He smiled and held out his hand, found himself eager to touch her again. “Shall we?”

She hesitated, probably remembering her no-fooling-around-until-after-the-wedding rule. But he had no intention of waiting until their wedding night to take her to his bed.

And he would seduce her so cleverly, she would believe it had been her idea in the first place.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head, gazing at his hand as though it were a poisonous creature poised to attack.

“Surely you don’t find holding hands with your fiancé inappropriate.”

“Not exactly.”

“Do I frighten you, then?”

“Not in the way you might think. It’s more a matter of trust.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust me. Women have desires, too, Your Highness.”

Her candor both surprised and impressed him, and told him that, despite her resolve, she was as good as him. He’d yet to find a woman able to resist his charms. He doubted that Hannah would be any different.

She finally slipped her hand in his, and he could swear he felt her shiver.

This was going to be too easy.

Five

Though Phillip’s leaving had been a blip in her carefully laid plans, the instant his hand slipped around her own, the second his fingers threaded loosely through hers, as far as Hannah was concerned, things were back on track.

Dressed in slacks, a plain white button-down shirt and a caramel cashmere sport coat, he looked casual, but carried himself with an air of supremacy that was almost intoxicating. A woman could feed endlessly off the energy he exuded.

They took a long, leisurely stroll through the gardens and, for the first time since she’d arrived, she felt as though she could finally relax. She had begun to feel as though she were being pulled in ten directions at once. Then Phillip appeared, snapped his fingers and made it all go away. Somehow she knew deep down that, no matter what, he would take care of her.

They walked across the pristinely maintained lawn—she’d seen golf courses that didn’t look this good—in the general direction of the woods bordering the estate.

“Did you have a successful trip?” she asked.

“You mean, did I kill anything?” he replied, and she nodded. “Not this time.”

“What’s in season here this time of year? No, wait, let me guess. You’re king, so you make the rules. You can kill whatever you want, whenever you want.”

He grinned and she felt an honest-to-goodness flutter in her heart. She would call his smile beautiful, had he not been so utterly male.

“I have to follow the laws of the land like everyone else,” he said. “Right now we’re hunting small game and birds.”

“Could I go with you sometime?”

“Hunting?”

She nodded, and he looked genuinely surprised.

“My father and I went every year up until his death.” A knot of emotion rose up and clogged her throat, the way it always did when she talked about him. Losing him so unnecessarily had left a laceration on her heart that, a year later, was still raw and bleeding.

Everyone kept telling her that it would get easier, but the truth was, each day it seemed to hurt a little bit more. For her anyway. Her mother, it would seem, had little trouble moving on.

“You were close with your father,” Phillip said. A statement more than a question.

She nodded, and he gave her hand a squeeze. It was a simple gesture, but it meant everything to her. “He was my hero.”

“It was a car accident?”

“His car was hit by a drunk driver. He was killed instantly. Of course, the other driver walked away with barely a scratch. The worst part was that it wasn’t the first time. He had three prior convictions for DUI and was driving on a revoked license.”

“The laws here are much tougher on repeat offenders than in the U.S.”

“It’s tough enough losing someone you love, but for it to be so…senseless. It’s just not fair.”

“No, it isn’t,” he agreed.

She realized that recently losing a parent was one thing they had in common. “Reports of your mother’s death said she was sick, but they never really specified what she died of.”

“She had cancer of the liver.”

“It must have been quick.”

“She was given six months when she was diagnosed. She only lived three.”

“There was nothing they could do?”

He shook his head. “It was too far advanced.”

She searched his face for a sign of remorse or loss, but there was none. When he spoke of her, he sounded almost…cold. “Do you miss her?”

“I barely knew her.” He glanced over at her. “She was cold, overbearing and heartless.”

Her parents certainly hadn’t been perfect, but she never once doubted their love for her. “That’s sad.”

He shrugged, as though it didn’t bother him in the least. They stopped at the edge of the woods, near the base of a barely perceptible and frightfully narrow path cut through the trees flanked with thick underbrush. “I’d like to show you something.”

“Okay.”

“It’s untended, so watch your step.”

He tugged her along after him, the woods swallowing them up, transporting them instantly into a world that was quiet and serene, and rich with the scent of earth and vegetation. Even the sun couldn’t penetrate the dense canopy of leaves overhead.

“I’m going to assume there are no dangerous wild animals out here,” she said, ducking under a low-hanging branch.

“I assure you, we’re perfectly safe.”

She followed him for several hundred feet, and could swear she heard the sound of running water. The deeper they descended, the louder it became. Finally they reached a clearing and bisecting the forest was a quaint, bubbling brook. It was like something out of a storybook.

“It’s lovely!” she told him.

“My sister and I used to play here when we were children,” he said, releasing her hand so she could investigate. “It was forbidden, which made it all the more appealing. We would sneak away from our nanny and spend hours investigating.”

And so would her and Phillip’s children.

She made her way to the water’s edge, and though it probably wasn’t proper, she couldn’t resist toeing off her sandal and dipping into the chilly water. “You were close? You and Sophie?”

“When we were small. But now Sophie and I are very…different.”

“How is that?”

“You’ll find that my sister is something of a free spirit.”

“She’s independent?”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

She might have been imagining it, but she could swear he sounded sad. Maybe he missed the relationship they’d had. If his mother was as cold as he’d described, maybe they were all the other had.

“I always wanted a brother or sister,” she told him.

“And ironically, I always wished I were an only child. Siblings are highly overrated.”

Somehow she doubted that. “You have a brother, too.”

“Half brother.” His response was so full of venom, his eyes so icy, it gave her a cold chill. Maybe this was a subject best left alone for the time being. She was sure that once they got to know each other, he would open up more.

One step at a time, she reminded herself.

She slipped back into her sandal, a sudden chill making her shiver. Goose bumps broke out across her arms and she rubbed to warm them.

“You’re cold,” he said. He shrugged out of his sport coat and slipped it around her. It was warm and soft and smelled like him.

He arranged it on her shoulders, using both hands to ease her hair from underneath it, his fingers brushing the back of her neck. She shivered again, but this time it had nothing to do with the temperature. At least, not the air. Her inner thermostat on the other hand had begun a steady climb.

It was the way he looked at her, so…thoroughly. As though he wanted to devour her with his eyes.

“I like your hair down,” he said, brushing it gently back from her face. “Promise me you’ll wear it like this all the time.”

“I have so much natural curl that when I wear it down, it tends to look kind of…untamed.”

His mouth pulled into one of those sexy, simmering smiles. “I know. I like you that way.”

Oh, boy, here we go again.

“It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Proper is also highly overrated. Besides, I make the rules. And I hereby decree that, from this day forward, you are to wear your hair down.”

She might have been offended if she thought for a second that he was serious about the royal decree thing. Besides, he was standing so close that the testosterone he was giving off was beginning to short-circuit her brain.

He cupped the side of her face, traced her features with his thumb. Her cheek, her brow, the corner of her mouth. Her internal thermometer shot up another ten degrees and her knees started to feel soft and squishy. She knew it would be best to stop him, but they had connected emotionally today. Physical affection just seemed like the natural next step.

Maybe a bit too natural.

His eyes searched her face. “You’re beautiful, you know.”

She took in a deep breath. “Your Highness, I suspect you’re trying to seduce me.”

“If I am, it seems to be working.” His thumb brushed her cheek. “You’re blushing.”

She didn’t have a snappy comeback for that one. And, oh, how she wanted to touch him. To put her hands on his chest and feel his heart beating, feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, across his face, feel the faint shadow of stubble on his cheeks.

He brushed his fingers across her cheek. “Your skin feels warm here.”

Probably because her blood was hovering just below the boiling point.

He stroked lower, down her chin and throat, his eyes following the path of his hand. Then lower still, just above the swell of her breasts. It was a move so intimate and sexually charged, and wonderful, that she went weak all over. With desire and fear and curiosity.

He lifted his eyes to hers. “And here.”

“Phillip—”

“I know, I’m breaking the no-touching rule.” He caressed the uppermost swell of her breasts with the tips of his fingers and her knees nearly buckled with the new, erotic sensation. “But as king, I make my own rules.” He leaned in closer, until his mouth was only inches from hers. “And nothing is going to stop me from kissing you.”

Well then, there wasn’t much point in telling him no, was there? Besides, what harm could one kiss do? A real kiss this time. How far could it go, out here in the woods?

“Just one kiss,” she told him, as though his demand even required a response.

He cupped her cheek and mini explosions of sensation detonated under her skin.

She was getting that weak, dizzy feeling again. “Then we stop.”

His other hand slipped through her hair to cradle the back of her head. He lowered his head and she lifted hers to meet him, her eyes slipping closed. Then their lips touched, barely more than a brush, and time seemed to stand still. It was just her lips and his lips, their breath mingling.

It was unbelievably wonderful. So sweet and gentle, as though she were a delicate piece of china he thought he might break. And while her head was telling her it was time to pull away, time to stop, her heart was telling her just a little longer. Because sweet and gentle wasn’t enough for her this time. She wanted more.

Which was why, when Phillip deepened the kiss, when she felt his tongue tease the seam of her lips, she didn’t do or say a thing to stop him. And when she gave in, opened up to him, the kiss went from sweet to simmering in the span of a heartbeat.

He tunneled his fingers through her hair, drew her against the length of his long, solid frame. She couldn’t help but put her arms around him, flatten her hands against the ropes of muscle in his back. It seemed as though her entire body, from the tips of her toes to the crown of her scalp, came alive with brand-new and intense sensations. And there was an ache, real and intense, building deep within her. A clawing need to be touched, in a way that no man had ever touched her before.

It was exhilarating and terrifying, and more wonderful than she could have ever imagined.

As though reading her mind, Phillip let one hand slide down her back to cup her behind. He drew her against him, and she could feel that he was just as aroused as she was. And instead of feeling wary or afraid, she felt a need for more. And she longed for the day when she didn’t have to tell him no.

Unfortunately, that was not today.

She broke the kiss and pressed her forehead against his shirt, felt that his heart was thumping as hard and fast as her own. And said the only thing she could think to say. “Wow.”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Thank you.”

She looked up at him, saw that he was smiling. “It’s not completely obvious that I have zero experience when it comes to this sort of thing?”

“A little, maybe. But I think that’s what I like about you.”

“That I’m inexperienced?” She thought men liked women who knew how to please them.

“That you’re not afraid to admit it. That you embrace your values, not lean on them. You have no idea how rare that is.” He touched her cheek. “Although, I fear your honesty might get you into trouble one of these days.”

“My father always told me, nothing bad can come from telling the truth.”

“In that case, he would have been very proud of you.”

She felt the beginnings of tears prickle in her eyes and laid her head back against his chest, so he wouldn’t see. “You think so?”

“I do.”

He could really be quite sweet. When he wanted to.

“They’re bound to be wondering where we’ve disappeared to,” he said. “We should get back before they dispatch a search party.”

Though she would be content to stand here all day, wrapped up in his strong arms, just the two of them, she knew he was right. And as she backed away, she took heart in the fact that today had brought them one step closer to the ideal future that she knew they would have together. Things were falling right into place.

“Let’s go,” she said.

He reached out and took her hand, laced his fingers through hers and led her out of the woods.

“By the way, I wanted to ask you about something.” She told him about the woman who had been staring at her Monday. “She wasn’t in any of the profiles. I thought maybe you’d know who she was.”

He shrugged. “There were so many people there.”

“She would be hard to miss. Long, dark hair, very beautiful. And she never took her eyes off us.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

She couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t being honest with her. He’d been by her side the entire day. Surely he would have noticed someone staring. Wouldn’t he? Or maybe, people stared at him all the time.

Besides, what reason did he have to lie? She was probably just being paranoid again.

The walk back to the palace went far too quickly, and when they reached the steps, Phillip’s valet was waiting for them.

“An urgent call from the prime minister, sir.”

“I’ll take it in my office,” Phillip told him, then turned to Hannah. “I enjoyed our walk.”

He was wearing one of those secret, just-between-us smiles, and it made her feel warm all over.

“Me, too.”

“We should do it again soon.”

She had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the walking part. “I’d like that.”

As he started to walk away, Hannah called after him.

“Phillip.”

He stopped and turned to her.

“Would you have dinner with me tonight?”

There was a slight hesitation before he said, “I can’t.”

No explanation, no excuses. No apology.

The sting of disappointment was quick and sharp. Can’t, or won’t? she couldn’t help but wonder as he turned and walked away. Why, after they’d had such a good time together, would he not want to be with her? It didn’t make sense.

You are not going to let this bother you, she told herself as he disappeared inside, then she walked back over to the blanket where she’d left her things. Only then did she realize that his jacket still hung on her shoulders. But even that couldn’t shelter her from the chill that seemed to settle deep in her bones.

They’d taken a huge step forward today. She felt as if they really connected.

Why then, did it feel as though, for every step they took forward, they took two back?

Six

Phillip had just hung up the phone with the prime minister when the door to his office flew open and his sister barged in unannounced.

His secretary stood in the doorway behind her, looking both pained and apologetic. “Princess Sophie to see you, sir.”

Even the most loyal of servants were no match against Sophie. Phillip dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and she backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

“I see you’re back,” he said.

In lieu of a civilized greeting, she said, “You’re an idiot.”

Obviously she was in a snit over something. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, curious as to what he had done to provoke her this time, and sure he was about to find out.

“Your fiancée was barely here a day and you took off? To go hunting? That was harsh, even for you.”

He wasn’t even sure why she cared. And because he didn’t owe anyone an explanation, least of all her, he didn’t give her one.

“She must scare the hell out of you,” she said.

Instantly his hackles went up, and before he could stop himself, he warned her, “Don’t even go there.”

Leave it to Sophie to know exactly which of his buttons to push. From the moment she was born, she had made it her mission in life to torment him, as sisters often did.

“She’s the real deal. But you already know that, don’t you? That’s why you’re so determined to keep her at arm’s length.”

She couldn’t be more wrong. He was doing Hannah a favor. But Sophie would never understand that. “You’re in no position to give me relationship advice. Who did you run off with the other night, Sophie?”

Her smug smile was all the answer he needed.

“You’re coming to a family dinner tomorrow night,” she told him. “You and Hannah, at my residence.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

Though he was inclined to refuse, for no reason other than the fact that she demanded it, he realized it was probably a good idea. Were Hannah to befriend Sophie, she might be less unsettled in his absence. She had looked utterly crushed when he refused her dinner invitation. He liked Hannah, and he didn’t want her to be unhappy. But he couldn’t change the person he was.

“All right,” he told Sophie.

She looked surprised. “Really? And here I was all prepared to pull out the brass knuckles.”

He would have guessed as much. But, after the heated disagreement he’d just had with the prime minister, he simply wasn’t in the mood for another fight. “What time would you like us?”

“Seven o’clock. And bring a bottle of wine. In fact, bring a red and a white. I’m making roast leg of lamb.”

“You’re making it? Well, I’ll be sure to bring a bottle of antacid, too. And perhaps I should put the palace physician on high alert as well. Just in case.”

Pleased that she had gotten her way, she ignored the jab. Besides, she knew as well as he did that the insult was unfounded. She had trained at one of the most prestigious culinary academies in all of Europe, and was an accomplished, gifted chef. It was a passion that had been vehemently discouraged by their parents. But Sophie somehow always managed to get what she wanted.

It both annoyed and impressed him.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow then,” she said.

He kept his face bland. “I can hardly contain my excitement.”

She only smiled.

“Is that it?” he asked.

“I suppose you noticed Madeline on Monday.”

The mystery woman Hannah had asked him about. Of course he’d noticed her. She would have been hard to miss, staring at them the way she had been. “What about her?”

“It would seem she’s back to her old tricks.”

“Forgive me if don’t shudder with fear.” Madeline was of no consequence to him or Hannah, which was why he hadn’t felt the need to explain who she was. She was nobody.

“You know how she can be. Anything to get attention.”

“And confronting her would only feed that need. She’ll get bored and find someone else to antagonize.”

“She could do some damage in the meantime.”

He seriously doubted that. “Is there anything else you needed?”

Sophie shook her head, obviously exasperated with him. “Does your fiancée have the slightest clue how difficult you can be?”

He didn’t respond.

“So, I’ll see you both tomorrow evening?”

“We’ll be there.”

She flashed him one of those cryptic, I-know-something-you-don’t smiles. One that made him uneasy. Then she was gone.

Forget Madeline. Sophie was the one he should be worried about. This whole dinner scenario seemed a bit too…domestic for her taste. Why did he suspect that there was more to this than she was letting on?

Hannah had just finished a quiet dinner alone in her suite, a meal she’d had little appetite for, when Elizabeth knocked on the door.

“You should have left hours ago,” Hannah scolded her. She may have been a palace employee, but for heaven’s sake, she needed a life of her own outside of work. It seemed as though she was always there.

“I was just finishing up a few things,” Elizabeth told her. “I was on my way out when a call came in for you.”

“Who is it?” She was hoping maybe a friend from back home. God knows she could use a friendly voice right now.

“It’s your mother,” Elizabeth said, then added, “Again.”

This was the fourth call since Hannah left Seattle. Hadn’t her mother gotten the message that Hannah wasn’t ready to talk to her? She was still too bitter and angry. It was very possible, if Hannah talked to her in her current state of mind, she might say something she would later regret. Like she had the last time they spoke.

“Tell her I’ll call her back.”

“She said it was urgent.”

She would say just about anything to get Hannah’s attention. To get her to come to the phone.

“She sounded upset,” Elizabeth added.

Hannah felt a slight jerk of alarm. She remembered the last urgent call from her mother. She had been in the university library studying for exams, so engrossed she almost didn’t answer her phone, when it buzzed in her pocket. And when she heard her mother’s distraught voice, her heart sank.

Sweetheart, you need to come home. Daddy was in an accident….

But he was gone now, and she couldn’t imagine anything urgent enough to warrant a return call. “I’ll call her tomorrow.”

Elizabeth didn’t say a word, but she had this look. Not quite disapproval, because a palace employee would never be so bold as to disapprove of anything a royal did or said. It was more the lack of emotion that was giving her away. It was obvious she was trying very hard not to react. Or maybe it was Hannah’s own guilty conscience nagging at her. Either way, Hannah knew exactly what she was thinking.

And she was right, of course. “I know, that’s what I said yesterday. So technically, today is tomorrow. Right?”

“That is true,” Elizabeth agreed.

“You think I should call her, don’t you?”

“It’s not my place to pass judgment.”

Maybe not, but Hannah was pretty sure that’s what she was thinking. And the truth was, her mother wasn’t likely to stop calling. Not until Hannah gave her the opportunity to apologize for her inappropriate behavior these past few months.

Maybe it would be best, to ease her mother’s guilt and Hannah’s, if they cleared the air. And besides, it was what Daddy would have wanted. Hannah had always been more like him than her mother. So many times her father had told her, “Your mother isn’t like us, Hannah. She’s fragile. You just have to be patient.”

But sometimes her mother could be so insecure and vulnerable it had been difficult even for her. Not that she was a bad person. She needed constant reassurance that she was loved and appreciated. At times her neediness was utterly exhausting.

“My lady?” Elizabeth was watching her expectantly.

Hannah sighed, knowing what she had to do. Knowing that, for her father’s sake, she had to settle this. “I’ll talk to her.”

“She’s on line two,” Elizabeth said. Then, ever the proper assistant, nodded and slipped quietly from the room, shutting the door behind her.

Hannah walked over to the phone, hesitating a minute before she finally lifted it off the cradle and pressed the button for line two. “Hello, Mother.”

“Oh, Hannah, honey! It’s so good to hear your voice!”

Hannah wished she could say the same, but right now the sound of her mother’s voice, that syrupy sweetness, was just irritating. “How have you been?”

“Oh, fine. But I’ve missed you so much. I was afraid you wouldn’t come to the phone again.”

“You said it was urgent.”

“How have you been? How do you like it there?”

“Everything is fine here.” If she discounted the fact that her fiancé had taken off the minute she arrived. Or that he refused to share dinner with her.

“I’ve been very busy,” she told her mother.

“Is the palace beautiful? And is Phillip as gorgeous as I remember?”

She was stalling. Hannah wished she would just say what she had to say and get it over with. “The palace and Phillip are exactly the same as the last time you saw them. Now, I’d like you to tell me what was so urgent.”

“Can’t I have a pleasant conversation with my daughter?”

Sadly, no. She had shot any chance of that all to hell with her selfishness. “It’s late, and I’m tired.”

“Okay, okay.” She bubbled with phony laughter. “I’ll get to the point.”

Thank goodness. Just apologize and get it over with already.

“Now, Hannah, I don’t want you to get upset…”

Oh, this was not a good sign. That didn’t sound anything like an apology. “Upset about what?”

“I called because I have some good news.”

“Okay.” Spit it out already.

“Keep December thirtieth open on your calendar.”

Oh, no.

“Why?” she forced herself to ask, even though she already suspected what was coming next.

Dreaded it, in fact.

“Because I’m getting married!”

“Married?”

“Now, honey, I know what you’re thinking—”

“Daddy has been gone barely a year!”

“Hannah, please, you’re not being fair.”

“Fair?”

“A year is a long time when you’re alone.”

It was the same song and dance she’d fed Hannah three months after his death, when she’d gone out on her first date. I’m lonely, she’d told Hannah. What she didn’t seem to get is that she had just lost her husband, therefore she was supposed to be lonely. She was supposed to mourn his death, not take the first opportunity to run out and find a replacement.

“Please don’t be angry, Hannah.”

“Who is he?”

“No one you know. He owns a small law firm outside of Seattle. But you’ll love him, honey.”

No, she wouldn’t. No one could replace her father. Ever. And if her mother honestly believed someone could, she was more oblivious than Hannah could have imagined.

“I was thinking, I could bring him to your wedding. So you could meet him.”

She didn’t want to meet him. “For security reasons, that won’t be possible.”

“Please give him a chance. He’s such a sweet, generous man. And he loves me.”

Hannah was sure that what he probably loved was the substantial estate her father had left behind. “You say that like Daddy didn’t love you. Or is it that you didn’t love him?”

“That’s unfair. You know that I loved your father very much.” There was a quiver in her voice that said she was on the verge of tears. No big surprise there. She often used tears to win sympathy. But Hannah wasn’t buying it this time.

“Then why are you so eager to replace him?”

“You’ve gone on with your life. I should be allowed to go on with my life, too.”

It wasn’t the same thing and she knew it. Besides, Hannah wasn’t out trying to find a new father, was she? “And so you have, Mom. You don’t need my permission.”

“No, but I would like your blessing.”

“I really need to go now.”

“Hannah, please—”

“We’ll talk about this when you’re here next week,” she said.

“I love you, honey.”

“Goodbye, Mom.” She could hear her mother still talking as she set the phone back in the cradle. But if she stayed on the line any longer, she would have wound up saying something she regretted.

There was nothing she could do or say to change her mother’s mind. She had obviously made her decision. And since Hannah had no control over the situation, there was no point in wasting her time worrying about it.

She had other things to keep her occupied. Wedding plans and redecorating, and hours of reading to do. She didn’t need her mother anymore.

She sat on the sofa, surrounded with binders full of information to read, color swatches and wallpaper samples to choose from, last-minute wedding plans to tie up. But she couldn’t seem to work up the enthusiasm for any of it.

She felt too…edgy.

Hannah decided a long, hot bath with her lavender bath gel might relax her. Afterward she towel-dried her hair and changed into her most comfortable cotton pajamas. She curled up in bed to watch television, browsing past the gazillion channels available, but there wasn’t a thing on that held her interest.

She snapped the television off and tossed the remote on the coverlet. She was bored silly, yet she didn’t feel like doing anything.

Hannah glanced over at the closet door, where Phillip’s jacket hung. She had planned to give it back to him tomorrow. But what if he’d forgotten he’d lent it to her, and was wondering where he’d left it.

Yeah right. She just wanted an excuse to see him. Which in itself was silly because he was her fiancé. She shouldn’t need an excuse to see him. Right? If she wanted to see him, she should just…see him. Shouldn’t she?

Yes, she decided. She should.

Before she lost her nerve, she rolled out of bed and grabbed her robe, shoving her arms in the sleeves and belting it securely at her waist. She stuck her feet in her slippers, grabbed Phillip’s jacket, and headed out into the hall.

His suite was all the way down the main hall at the opposite end of the east wing. She had never actually been there, but it had been part of the tour Elizabeth took her on earlier in the week.

When she reached his door, she lifted her hand to knock, then hesitated, drawing it back.

What was she doing? Begging for his attention? Was she really so pathetic? Had she so little pride? Wasn’t she stronger than that?

She turned to walk back the way she came from, but hesitated again.

On second thought, why shouldn’t she stop by to give him his jacket? He was her fiancé, wasn’t he? And damn it, she had worked hard to prepare herself for her role as his wife. Didn’t she deserve a little something in return? Was a little bit of his time really all that much to ask for?

No, she decided, it definitely was not.

She turned back, and before she could talk herself out of it again, rapped hard on the door.

Seven

Get a grip, Hannah, she told herself, since her heart was about to pound clear through her chest. It’s not like he’s naked.

But darn close.

A pair of Egyptian cotton pajama bottoms rode low on Phillip’s hips as he opened the door. Other than that, all she was able to comprehend, to process, was the ridiculous amount of muscle she was seeing.

Wide, ripped shoulders and bulging biceps. Lean hips and toned, defined abs. And she could only imagine what was under the pajamas. In fact, she was imagining it.

She was so stunned silly by his perfect physique, it took a moment to register that he was speaking to her.

She peeled her eyes from his flawless pecks, located his face, and uttered a very eloquent, “Huh?”

Amusement danced in the depth of his eyes. “I said, is there something wrong?”

“Wrong?”

“Why are you here?”

Think, Hannah. Why did you come all the way down here? Then she remembered the jacket still hanging from her left hand. “No. Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to give this back to you.”

She held the jacket out to him, and he took it.

“Is that it?” he asked.

“Yes.” She shook her head. “No.”

He leaned in the door frame, arms folded across his chest, waiting patiently for her to elaborate. And, boy, were his biceps huge. So thick and strong looking, like he could probably bench-press a compact car and not break a sweat.

Did it suddenly get a lot hotter in here? Her cheeks were on fire and she was feeling just a little light-headed.

What was wrong with her? It wasn’t as if she had never seen a half-naked man before.

The biggest problem here wasn’t that she was wary of what she was seeing. Instead, she felt a very real and intense desire—no, not desire, need—to put her hands all over him.

She locked them together behind her back. Just to be safe.

“Are you all right?” he asked, though he looked more amused than concerned.

“Yes. I just…” She shook her head again. “No. I’m not.”

“Maybe you should come in.” He opened the door wider and stepped aside.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this, she told herself. Their wedding was still more than a week away. It was one thing to flirt and steal a kiss here and there, but going into his suite, at this late hour. In her pajamas. And Phillip almost naked.

She was really pushing it.

So you just won’t let anything happen, she decided. It’s not as though she was a slave to her libido.

She had waited this long. She could wait a little while longer.

But the question was, could Phillip? And if he took matters into his own hands, would she find the strength to stop him?

Bad idea or not, she followed him inside. His sitting room was much larger than her own, and closer to the size of the one they would be moving into after the wedding. And it was undeniably masculine. Dark polished wood and dark patterned fabric in rich hues. But not so dark that it was dreary or threatening. In contrast, the effect was warm and welcoming.

“This is nice,” she said, ideas popping into her head of how she might incorporate both his and her individual styles to create a decor they could both be comfortable in.

See, she told herself, coming here was a good thing.

“So, what’s up?” he asked.

She turned to him, with every intention of meeting his eyes, but her gaze kept snagging slightly lower.

“Hannah?”

She pried her eyes from his torso and met his gaze. He was grinning again.

“If it would help get the conversation rolling, I could put on a shirt.”

Though she knew he was only teasing, her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“No apology necessary. I’m flattered. But maybe you should tell me what’s wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“I asked if you were okay, and you said no.”

Had she? My goodness, he must have thought she was a total ditz. Now that she was here, she had no idea what to say to him. So she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “My mother called.”

He didn’t seem to get the significance. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, she just…” Her voice cracked, and she realized, with horror, that tears burned the corners of her eyes. What was wrong with her? She was not a crier. She was tougher than that. Besides, she wasn’t that upset. More angry than sad.

“She just what?” he asked.

“She’s—” A half hiccup, half sob, worked its way up her throat and she battled to swallow it back down. “She’s getting married.”

Despite her resolve, the instant the words left her lips, the tears welled up over the edges of her lids and rolled down her cheeks. Mortified, she covered her face with her hands.

What was wrong with her? She should be spitting mad, not blubbering like a baby.

Then she felt Phillip’s arms go around her, draw her against him, and something inside her seemed to snap. Every bit of tension and anger that had built inside her let go in a limb-weakening rush and she all but melted against him.

“You think it’s too soon?” he asked. “For your mother to remarry, I mean.”

Because she wasn’t sure her voice was steady enough for a verbal reply, she nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. Just knowing he was there for her if she needed him was enough right now.

He didn’t say anything else. He just held her and stroked her hair. She held on tight, her face pressed to his warm, bare skin, and concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths, until she felt the tears begin to work their way back down. Apparently, this was exactly what she’d needed. How did he always seem to know exactly what to do and say to make her feel better?

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For barging in on you like this. And getting all wishy-washy and emotional.”

“It’s okay.”

“I don’t usually do this. I’m not a crier. It…it’s just been a really stressful couple of days.”

“I can imagine.”

“Bringing the jacket back was just an excuse,” she admitted, and could swear she felt him smile.

“I know.”

She looked up at him. Of all the women in the world that he could have had, why did he pick her? “I guess I just… I guess I was lonely.”

He touched her cheek, brushing away the last remnants of the tears with his thumb.

“All day I have appointments and meetings, and sometimes I just can’t wait to be alone, to have a minute to myself. But then, when I’m finally alone, I feel so…isolated. Does that make sense?”

“Trust me, I know exactly what you mean. And you get used to it. I promise.”

Maybe she didn’t want to get used to it. She wanted them to be a regular family. She wanted it so bad she ached deep in her heart.

“I was going to wait until tomorrow to tell you this,” he said. “My sister invited us to dinner at her residence tomorrow evening.”

“Really?”

“I hope you don’t mind, but I told her we would be there.”

Mind? She was absolutely ecstatic. They would finally share a meal together. Like a real family. Not to mention that she had been eager to get to know her future sister-in-law. “I would love to.”

She was so happy, she nearly burst into tears again. Instead, she rose up on her toes and kissed him. Just a quick, sweet kind of kiss, so he would know how much it meant to her.

But it felt so nice, so…perfect, she kissed him again. This one lasting just a little longer than the first. She felt his arms tighten around her, the flex of his back where her hands rested.

And because the second one was even better than the first, she kissed him again.

And again.

And then she couldn’t stop.

Phillip had Hannah exactly where he wanted her. Her body pressed against him, her arms circling his neck, hands tangled in his hair. And her mouth—damn, what she could do with her mouth. He had never been with a woman who kissed so…earnestly.

He could have her tonight if he wanted, before the wedding, just as he’d planned. So, why did it feel wrong? As if he were somehow betraying her trust?

Since when did he care about anyone but himself?

He wouldn’t be having this problem, this case of an overactive conscience, if she wasn’t so damned honest all the time. If she didn’t walk around with her heart on her sleeve.

He’d told her, just this afternoon, that her honesty would get her into trouble, and she insisted that honesty was a good thing. Well, it was looking like maybe she was right.

Yet here he was, kissing her, touching her, when what he should be doing was telling her no. But, damn, she felt good.

Maybe she didn’t understand the consequences of her actions. Maybe if he pushed just a little further, tempted her just a little bit more, she would realize what she was doing and put on the brakes.

Maybe he could make her tell him no.

He let his hand slide down her back, slowly. Over the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip. Then he went lower, cupping the soft swell of her behind. She whimpered softly, but didn’t attempt to pull away. He took it one step further, pulling her against him, so she would feel exactly what all of this fooling around was doing to him. And, hell, she felt amazing. All soft and warm and sweet smelling. And rather than deter her, his actions seemed only to fuel her determination.

She drew her nails across his skin, arched and rubbed herself against him, and he couldn’t stop the husky sound of need that welled up from his chest.

She had given every indication that she was a virgin, but now he wasn’t so sure. And he didn’t know how he felt about that. He liked the idea that she would be his alone.

Her hands were on his shoulders, his chest, traveling slowly downward, in the direction of his waistband. A few more inches, and he wouldn’t be able to stop.

Virgin or not, how could he, in good conscience, deny Hannah what she told him she wanted—the privilege of waiting for her wedding day?

The truth of the matter was, as good as this felt, as much as she seemed to want this, he couldn’t.

He broke the kiss and backed away, leaving her flush and out of breath. And honestly, he wasn’t faring much better. “We have to stop.”

Her cheeks were red, her voice husky with desire. “Why?”

“Because you don’t want this.”

“Yes, I do. I want us to make love.”

She tried to kiss him again, to touch him, but he manacled her wrists in his hands. “No, you don’t. You’re upset, and it’s affecting your judgment.”

“I’m not upset. Honestly.”

“Hannah, if we let this happen, you’ll regret it.”

“I won’t.”

“It’s only a week.” He could hardly believe what he was saying. That he was the one talking her out of sex. He must have been completely out of his mind.

Her expression said she was thinking the same thing. “Today, next week. What’s the difference?”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Phillip, I want this. Tonight. Right now.”

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